


Safety and Euphony

by YellowMustard



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Boys In Love, Connor Deserves Happiness, Established Relationship, Evan Hansen Deserves Happiness, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Pillow Talk, Smut, Tree Bros, boys joking around, evan actually has a personality and a sense of humor fight me, proposal but not really?, yes more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 06:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20634986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YellowMustard/pseuds/YellowMustard
Summary: Evan is lucky. Connor can’t think of any horrible puns to make about his name.Evan only sounds like heaven.Which is...pretty accurate, actually.(OR: Connor hates his name. But it's different when Evan says it.)





	Safety and Euphony

**Author's Note:**

> One day I may tire of writing this pairing but today is not that day. 
> 
> This idea came to me literally via a single line of dialogue in cecropia's newest oneshot, so y'all should go check that out because it's a full paragraph of fire emojis. But my weird brain just went "smut. but make it ~funny" and then this happened. YES it's more post-sex boys being cute and lovey. No I'm NOT afraid I'm becoming a one trick pony (yes i am i really am oh god) 
> 
> Thank you all, as always, for the straight up crazy amounts of support on my other works! I am still SHOOK that there are people reading everything?? And enjoying it?? Like what?? I am just a small creecher and I don't deserve?? 
> 
> No TW except the obvious. It's marked explicit for a reason! Check the tags!
> 
> https://theyellowestmustard.tumblr.com/

* * *

Connor Murphy has never been a big fan of his name.

He hates _ Murphy _ , for one. There’s something repulsive about the sound of it. It’s gawky and nasal and sounds kind of like a dry heave made cutesy at the end. _ Murph-y. _

It’s sort of gross to look at, too. Like, on paper. Something about the '_ur'_ next to the _'ph'_. It’s an ugly combination of letters. 

And also...it’s Larry’s name. It _ ties _him to Larry, identifies him as Larry’s son. 

So. Yeah.

Connor’s never really cared much for his first name, either. There’s nothing objectively bad about it, to be fair. Not like _ Murphy. _But it’s just...ordinary. And common; Connor has met at least five other Connors that he can recall since starting grade school. It makes him hyper aware that there’s nothing special about him, nothing truly unique.

And on top of that, it’s a really easy name to make fun of. He’s gotten _ Con_dom. _ Con_norrhea. Seventh grade was...a rough year. Preteens can be fucking awful.

Evan is lucky. Connor can’t think of any horrible puns to make about _ his _ name.

Evan only sounds like heaven.

Which is...pretty accurate, actually. 

Because Evan looks and feels and tastes like heaven, too.

Connor would know, because his mouth is currently latched onto Evan’s collarbone, sucking hard as he moans helplessly into Evan’s skin.

Evan’s hand speeds up in retaliation. 

They’re lying face to face as they touch each other, and Evan’s got one leg hooked around Connor’s hip, keeping him close. As if Connor’s planning on going anywhere, Jesus. He’d rather fucking die than move, even though the position is kind of awkward, and Connor’s got to hold his arm at an odd angle to wrap his hand around Evan’s dick.

But with every twist of Connor’s wrist Evan’s thighs shake, and another choked cry spills out of him. And when Connor fists his free hand into Evan’s hair and pulls, it produces a full-body shudder, and Evan’s eyes roll back, then slide shut, and he lets out a groan of, “_ Fuck _, gonna come--”

The thing is, Connor’s really fucking close, too. But he’s also just...not ready for this to end.

Not yet.

“Wait,” he gasps, pressing his forehead against Evan's. Panting breaths are shared between them; sweat-slicked limbs tense and quiver. “_Waitwaitwait--” _

Connor slows right down, stroking Evan at a pace that he knows is utterly unfair when he’s _ this fucking close_, dragging his thumb over the tip as he slides his mouth down Evan’s neck, teasing the orgasm out of him. 

Evan groans in frustration, and tries to buck into Connor’s hand to speed things along, but the funny thing is that despite himself, he follows suit. The fingers wrapped around Connor ease and slow, moving calculated and unhurried, and it’s absolute torture but fuck it’s so fucking good.

It’s fucking _ heavenly._

“Fuck, _ Evan…” _

“Oh my fucking god, _ please…” _

_ “Please?” _ Connor echoes tauntingly, despite the fact that he’s not far off begging himself because _holy fucking shit_. They’re both teetering over the edge, hovering there, hands moving so slowly they’re barely moving at all, and even though they’ve gone a hell of a lot further than this as far as sex goes Connor thinks this might be the absolute fucking hottest thing he’s ever experienced in his life. Just the feeling of Evan’s hand sliding over him, painfully slow, and the fact that Evan’s pupils are so blown he can barely tell what color his eyes are, and the way that Evan’s free hand is clenching and unclenching uselessly at Connor’s waist…

The whole thing sends pleasure rippling through him; white-hot and pulsing and almost agonizing in its intensity.

Fuck.

“_Con-- _ I need...Fuck, I need-- _ please--” _

And Connor finally relents, breaks, because the sound of this beautiful boy literally pleading for more is just too much for Connor to fucking handle, and he speeds back up again, and then Evan does too, and the heat coursing through Connor’s veins reaches boiling point and every nerve ending in his entire fucking body is screaming, and then Connor is coming hard, gasping and whimpering and shuddering, going _ "fuck fuck fuck", _ clinging to Evan like he might fall off the face of the earth if he lets go.

His own hand keeps moving, and then Evan's there, and...

And when Evan comes, when he spills into Connor's hand, he does this thing where he lets out this long, hot cry of Connor's name, drawing out all the vowels, breaking it into pieces, into the sum of its parts.

Connor's name has never sounded more beautiful.

They're quick about clean up, afterwards. They've gotten pretty efficient at it over time; Connor keeps a pack of baby wipes on his nightstand, which saves either of them having to fuck around with the whole process of stumbling, weak-kneed, into the bathroom for a damp washcloth or whatever. Connor rolls out of bed to toss the wipes in the trash, and nearly face-plants straight into the floor because his spine isn't quite working right yet, which makes Evan laugh, and Connor mumbles "Shut up," half-heartedly before flopping back into bed, boneless and exhausted.

Evan rolls onto his stomach and folds his arms under Connor's pillow, tilting his head to one side so they can still look at each other. Connor strokes the bare skin of Evan’s back, because Evan really likes having his back touched, and _Connor_ really likes the sound of Evan’s contented little sighs.

"So, new rule," Connor murmurs, and he's kind of surprised at how hoarse and weak his voice sounds. "You're only ever allowed to say my name if it's like _ that, _ oh my _ god." _

And Connor can't fucking believe that after all that's transpired this afternoon, that it's _ that_, Connor's dumb comment in his awful, croaky, fucked-out voice, that makes Evan bury his face in his pillow, an embarrassed blush creeping up the back of his neck. Connor runs his fingers over the gentle red glow, then leans over to press a kiss to it, simply because he wants to feel the heat against his mouth.

And everything is warm and hazy, indistinct, like it always is just after, and Connor kind of wants to stay wrapped up in this moment forever...

But then Evan snorts.

His face is still hidden in Connor’s pillow, but his shoulders begin shaking with stifled laughter, and he mumbles, “Jesus Christ,” to himself, voice muffled by the fabric.

Connor feels the corners of his mouth curling, even though he doesn’t know what’s funny, because Evan just has the best laugh. He supposes there would have once been a time where Connor would have slammed up his defenses at something like this, would have assumed that Evan is making fun of him, mocking him, but right now he just...really wants to be in on the joke, honestly.

“What?”

“I just...that would get really inconvenient and embarrassing really fast, oh my god. Can you imagine? Like, if I could only…”

Evan rolls to face Connor properly, grinning, eyes sparkling mischievously.

“Like...Like if I was like…”

Evan’s cheeks are bright red, and he licks his lips, as though bracing himself for what he’s about to say.

This is gonna be good. Connor can tell.

“Like…'Yeah, Doctor Sherman, I’ve been trying out those strategies you gave me, but I also got this really good coping trick from _ Connoooorrr…'” _

He draws out Connor’s name in this long, exaggerated, almost porny moan, and Connor’s laughing his ass off almost immediately, because _ holy shit, Evan. _

Evan clearly enjoys the response he’s received to the joke, because he keeps going, red-faced and snickering through it, going, "Oh Mrs Murphy, thank you so much for this wonderful Thanksgiving meal. Could you pass the salt please, _ Connoooooooorrrr?” _

And Connor’s fucking losing it now, eyes welling with tears as he cackles wildly, and he can’t help it, he has to add to it, and he chokes out, “Wow, it’s really inappropriate to be talking during a funeral, _ Evaaaaaan…” _

They go back and forth on this for a while, growing increasingly hysterical, barely able to get each sentence out coherently through their laughter, and the fake moans get louder, more exaggerated and ridiculous and high-pitched each time.

"I'd like you to meet my boss. Sir, this is_ Evaaaaaaaaaan…" _

"You need to be quiet, we're in a library _ Coooonnooorrrrrr…" _

"I don't think this is a suitable topic of conversation for a children's birthday party, _ Evaaaaaaaaaan…" _

They're both almost weepy with laughter, clinging to each other and giggling, and Connor loves this shit, loves that he gets to do _ this _with Evan too, that it's not all just deep conversations and really good sex. It's sort of awesome not to have to take everything so seriously, even though Evan is the one thing in Connor's life that he is completely, 100% serious about.

Connor pushes his still-sweaty hair out of his face and wipes his eyes, grinning.

But then Evan, still laughing, says.

"I, Evan Hansen, take you, _ Cooooonnoooooorrrr…" _

Connor stills.

Something odd happens to the air in the room. It gets immediately warmer, stiflingly warm, and the light grows dim, like individual pixels switching off, shutting down, until the background dissolves completely and all Connor can see is the smile dying on Evan's face. 

Connor's heart does several backflips in a row, and when he tries to take in a breath it sounds all quivery.

Because.

Because what does _ that _ mean, what the fuck does that _ mean _? 

Evan is obviously just fucking around. He's still laughing, still doing that stupid moan of Connor's name, a look of goofy glee plastered to his face. He's joking. It's a joke.

But.

Is that all it is, though? Did Evan say that because the idea of...of _ that, _ was a joke to him? Is the idea of being with Connor forever something Evan finds laughable and ridiculous and dumb?

Connor's stomach twists uncomfortably.

The light in Evan's eyes dims as he realizes Connor has stopped laughing. He suddenly turns very pale, and his Adam's apple bobs as he swallows nervously, then bites his lip.

"I...sorry. Too much?" 

He looks up at Connor sheepishly, still rolling his bottom lip between his teeth. His hand finds Connor's through the tangled sheets and gives it a firm squeeze, and the gesture makes something in Connor's shoulders relax, makes something in his bones unclench.

And Connor finds himself thinking about it; processing Evan's question. Too much?

Not too much, Connor decides almost instantly. Absolutely not too much. 

The thought of like, an actual wedding kind of makes Connor want to barf, admittedly.

But he thinks about the future, the years ahead, and all that he wants to happen. And he wants freckles and knobbly knees and startlingly green eyes. He wants pizza with Evan, and video games with Evan, and long conversations with Evan, and kissing Evan, and touching Evan.

And dumb fake pornstar moans with Evan.

He wants to answer. He wants to tell Evan no. Not too much. Not enough, if anything.

But first he just...needs to know. Because the paranoia is still pounding in his brain, and it's kind of giving him a headache, and he just. Needs to know.

"I...do you, like. Mean that?"

"Do I…?" Evan echoes, brow furrowed like he's trying to understand what Connor's asking.

"Like...do you--"

Evan's eyes suddenly widen in realization.

"Wait, no! No, that's-- I wasn't...I mean, _ yes _ , definitely yes, obviously, but like. That wasn't, um. A proposal. If that's what you're asking. I...I'm only nineteen and I don't think I'm ready for...and I mean, even if I was there's no way I would ask you like _ that _, I would never just--"

Evan stops and takes a deep breath.

"But...I mean, I never wanna be with anyone else? There _ isn't _ anyone else. Not for me. Not ever. So. Um. Like...one day, maybe? If you wanted?"

And for a long moment, all Connor can do is stare at him. 

His cheeks are flushed once more and, despite coming in Connor's hand not fifteen minutes ago, he won't look Connor in the eye. And he's still squeezing Connor's fingers and he just looks so adorably nervous as he lies there stammering awkwardly about wanting to stay with Connor, that he'll never want anyone else, _ever_, and…

"Yeah," Connor breathes, suddenly feeling light. Dazed. "Yeah, fuck yeah. Definitely. Like. One day."

And Evan gets this awed look in his eyes and this beautiful smile blooms on his face and he echoes Connor's "yeah," and then they're kissing, slow, all sliding lips and the barest brush of tongue, and Evan tilts his head and surges forward into the kiss until Connor has to gently take his face in both hands to steady him.

"Chill," he murmurs into Evan's lips, and Evan huffs out an embarrassed laugh, the warm breath of it ghosting over Connor's chin. 

Evan drops his head, burying his face against Connor's neck and pressing a smattering of kisses to the sensitive skin right below Connor's ear, seemingly not satisfied until Connor shivers. 

"Wanna take your name," Connor mumbles, feeling almost a little out of it, because Evan's mouth on his skin is fucking drugging, and he's sleepy and happy and just...drowning in affection for this boy. "Wanna be Connor Hansen."

"What if I wanna be Evan Murphy?" Evan teases, still kissing Connor's neck, soft and sweet. 

Connor screws up his nose.

"That sounds fucking gross and you know it," he says, because it does. _ Evan Murphy. _ Fucking _ no. _"Also, just. Give me an excuse to change my name. I fucking hate my name."

Evan snickers.

"Unless I'm moaning it," he replies jokingly, and his lips work their way up towards Connor's ear.

And it feels too fucking good, and Connor's skin is breaking out into goosebumps, and he's starting to consider if he could physically handle round two just yet; his brain says yes, but his way-too-overstimulated skin says no.

And he pulls away, because…

"That's not it," he says quietly, shaking his head. 

"It..isn't?"

Evan seems to sense that Connor wants to say something important, so he doesn't lean in to kiss him again. 

"I just…"

Connor's trying to get his thoughts to sit properly. He's started talking without even thinking about how to describe it, how to describe the depth of what he feels any time Evan says his name in _ any _ way. A happy _ Connor _ or a sleepy _ Connor _ or even an exasperated _ Connor. _

He's not sure how to explain that Evan makes the word _ Connor _ sound right. 

"I just...my name sounds the way it's meant to when you say it. And it's like...my name is safe with you. It sounds...safe."

And Connor has...just no idea what the fuck he means by that, honestly.

But Evan seems to, because his eyes soften, and he pulls Connor forward and presses his face against Connor's chest, wraps his arms tightly around Connor's torso.

"It is," Evan whispers. 

"It's safe with me. Promise."

Connor believes him.

  
  



End file.
